The Witch's Daughter
At the summit of the Washburn Mountain Range stood the Demon King's ancient castle.
KUUUUUUNG!!
A thunderclap like the sky itself splitting apart came crashing down upon the quiet castle, and the undead garrisoned within came flooding toward the source of the sound in a dark tide.
[Lord Magnus!]
Deep inside the castle lay its vast bathhouse—and there, a long-haired man was tilting his head back, bleeding.
Drops of blood dripped steadily from his hair. The once-pristine bath was ruined, black and crimson chunks of flesh erupting from his chest and sloughing off in long, viscous trails.
"......"
The long-haired man slowly lowered his head. Several of the Eternal Formations etched into his chest had ruptured, spewing blood and shreds of flesh in rivulets.
Confirming that the magic circles were completely destroyed, the man let out a long sigh and spoke.
"Thalaze is dead."
[......!]
At those words, the four undead closest to Magnus reacted with visible shock.
[Impossible. Thalaze...!]
[Retaliation! Slaughter them!!!]
A woman with the upper body of a human and the lower half of a serpent. A pale-faced zombie in a pressed butler's uniform and monocle. A grotesque figure stitched together from mismatched flesh, clutching a bloodstained kitchen knife. And a monstrous creature with neither face nor arms, writhing like a chrysalis.
Every one of them was an Ancient Undead.
[Was Thalaze not conducting a search on Roc Island?] the butler-zombie asked, and Magnus gave a small nod.
The Ancient Undead he'd encountered in the Screaming Jungle was unquestionably strong. But not strong enough to kill Thalaze ten separate times while the creature fled at full power. It was on that judgment that Magnus had willingly sent Thalaze out.
So then—who had destroyed Thalaze? It had been an illegal intrusion, yes, but Kizen had no reason to annihilate it. If anything, they would have captured it and used it to saddle Magnus with a handicap.
The one who killed Thalaze was someone trying to hide what Thalaze had seen.
Having reasoned it that far, Magnus spoke.
"There's a strong chance the enemy is a new Legion."
The expressions of the four undead hardened.
"The other Legion Commanders haven't moved so much as a step from their positions. Which means the 7th Legion was born on Roc Island, and they're the ones who killed Thalaze. There's no other way this adds up."
Shrrrp.
The woman who was half serpent, half human wound herself around Magnus's fallen body in the bathhouse and lifted him upright.
[Are you really okay, darling?]
"I am."
Magnus pressed a hand to his blood-drenched chest and began to draw a magic circle in the blood itself.
It was gratifying, after all, that he'd prepared backup formulas just in case. He connected the ruptured circle's equations with lines of blood, sketching a new circle beside it—a dark spell that would reveal the scene surrounding Thalaze at the moment of its destruction.
Wuuung!
The blood circle activated, locking onto the coordinates where Thalaze had perished. Before long, a blurry image like mist took shape before his eyes.
The gazes of the four Ancient Undead converged upon it.
Shaaaaaaa.
A beach where waves rolled in. Thalaze was there, almost nothing left of its form—burned away, meeting its end like kindling.
And standing beside Thalaze was a girl. Black hair, crimson eyes, barefoot, in a dress.
[So it was a human.]
[Vengeance! Vengeance! Tear her apart!]
The dead of the castle roared their fury, their howls shaking the walls.
Then Magnus raised a single finger above his head, and just like that, silence fell again as if it had never broken.
"Alaze. Who is that woman?"
At Magnus's question, the great chrysalis-like mass of flesh among the four presences wriggled and answered.
[The enemy who destroyed my brother Thalaze. Kizen first-year. Loraine Archbold. Daughter of Nephthys Archbold.]
At the words daughter of Nephthys, the dead stirred uneasily. The butler-zombie fiddled with his monocle.
[If she is the 7th Legion Commander, everything fits.]
If the 7th Legion did in fact exist, the odds were high that Nephthys had intervened and hidden its Legion Manager. She had taken part in the 7th Legion's final war, after all.
And decades later, a grown Nephthys passed the long-concealed Legion down to her daughter upon her enrollment at Kizen. It was a picture that could be inferred easily enough.
"Is that woman strong?"
At Magnus's question, the Zombie Butler inclined his head.
[A woman who inherited the blood of the Witch of Death could hardly be anything else. Perhaps to keep from drawing attention, she maintains only middling grades at Kizen—but her true ability is formidable. And besides, the 7th Legion is the Legion of Betrayal. Even Nephthys's daughter would have had no choice but to keep it hidden.]
Lamia, the half-human, half-serpent Ancient Undead, scowled.
[This is a problem. I'd have killed her even if she were a noble, or royalty—or the king of an entire nation, even. But the daughter of Nephthys changes everything.]
[Loraine Archbold. Extraordinary talent. If she commands a Legion. Thalaze's survival probability: ten percent.]
Magnus, listening to his subordinates, slowly stroked his jaw.
"So this is revenge for stealing one of his Ancient Undead? The little runt has some spine. How interesting."
Just then, the dead watching the dark-magic screen began to murmur. Loraine had lifted her head—and was staring directly up into the very image they were watching.
[She's noticed.]
The corner of her mouth curled up slowly, her red eyes gleaming.
CRASH!
The screen shattered, fragments scattering in every direction. Magnus smiled, intrigued.
"Sharp senses, that one."
[What will you do, Magnus?]
"I suppose I really will have to pay Roc Island a visit."
Shaaaaa.
Rising from the blood-soaked bathhouse, Magnus strode over and draped a robe from a nearby clothes rack across his shoulders.
"Next Headmaster or whatever she wants to call herself—doesn't matter. I'm simply going as a senior Legion Commander to teach my junior a lesson."
Lamia's expression stiffened.
[Killing Nephthys's daughter is where I draw the line. Do you want to end up like the 7th Legion?]
"I know, I know. I'll handle it my own way."
Magnus turned his head with a faint smile.
"Alaze. Find me a way onto Roc Island. A business trip, an event, posing as a guest professor—I don't care what it takes."
[Outsiders. Entry to Roc Island: absolutely forbidden. Magnus's Legion. Already violated the rules by sending Thalaze unilaterally. Entry: denied.]
"Then try harder to find one. That's your job, isn't it?"
[Command acknowledged.]
Hands tucked into the pockets of his robe, Magnus chuckled low in his throat.
"I can hardly wait. The Legion of Betrayal, is it..."
"Professor Hong Peng says pick up the pace!"
"We go up together—not one of us gets left behind!"
The first Magic Combat class of the Integrated Second Semester had begun.
The Class A students were running up a steep mountain trail, all of them gasping and heaving as they chased Hong Peng at the front of the pack.
"Simon?"
Simon was running at a comfortable pace somewhere in the middle when Camibarez spoke up beside him.
"You seem unusually cheerful today."
"Huh? Oh, I guess I am. Probably just the fresh air. It's been a while."
In truth, he had every reason to be in a good mood.
Last night, he had succeeded in destroying the eyes of Magnus's Legion. When Thalaze discovered Pier's ruins, things could have turned irrecoverable—but he'd somehow managed to burn through all ten of its lives right then and there, and that was a stroke of fortune he didn't take lightly.
Part of him had wanted to claim the creature as one of his own Ancient Undead, but as Pier had explained, undead already bound by a Legion's contract could never be turned to his side unless their Legion Commander was killed first.
Even so, he had cleared a truly enormous hurdle. Even Magnus wouldn't be able to enter Roc Island without securing decisive proof.
"Haaaah."
His spirits were high and his condition was excellent.
At last they reached the midpoint. Everyone collapsed as if they'd been waiting for the chance, gulping down air while the TAs went around handing out drinks that boosted recovery.
They changed the flavor this semester, huh?
The usual red drink now had green flecks of something floating in it. It tasted like something vaguely good for the body.
"Jimon!"
While Simon was resting, Hong Peng came over with a bright grin, and Simon smiled back and returned the greeting.
"Professor Hong Peng!"
"Your condijion looks amazing today! Care to run a little farther with me?"
"Sure thing!"
Meilin, who had been sprawled on the ground wheezing, shot Simon a look that said she was witnessing something utterly deranged. Was that even human stamina?
The two of them stepped forward and loosened up, and Hong Peng raised an arm and pointed.
"We run to that tree on the hill over there and touch it—first one back wins!"
"Sounds good."
Both of them lowered into starting stances.
"......Count me in, too!"
Hector stomped over and took his place on the starting line beside Simon. Hong Peng clapped her hands, beaming.
"Oh, schtudent Hector is joining us too? Wonderful!"
Watching the three of them gather at the front, Brad, the Magic Combat TA, shot meaningful glances at a few of the students.
"Ah—haven't got a shred of awareness, any of you. Our kids are getting shown up by a bunch of geezers who aren't even Magic Combat majors."
The Magic Combat hopefuls, who had been sitting on the ground resting, flinched hard at that.
"Kizen's gone soft, I swear. Back in my day this would've been unthinkable—honestly. If you call yourself one of mine, you get up and race. That's how it works."
Unable to withstand Brad's glaring, the Magic Combat hopefuls finally scrambled to their feet and bolted out onto the trail. Magic Combat, more than any other major, ran on a strict hierarchy.
"We're racing too!"
"Me as well!"
Hong Peng beamed at the students' enthusiasm.
The Magic Combat hopefuls, meanwhile, cast bitter sidelong glances at Simon's and Hector's backs.
"What are you looking at."
Hector noticed with uncanny precision. The students couldn't even meet his fiery glare and busied themselves looking anywhere else, while Simon and Hong Peng were too wrapped up in their own conversation to notice any of it.
"Ready~ GO!"
Hong Peng, Simon, Hector, and the Magic Combat hopefuls all burst into a sprint, surging up the hill in one go.
Running again on top of a body he'd already pushed past its limits, Simon felt like his lungs would burst—but his mood couldn't have been better. Immersed in the great outdoors, it felt as though the very toxins were draining out of him...
Toxins?
Simon's gaze drifted upward.
Come to think of it, every single trail he'd been on lately had that same green something drifting lazily through the air. And he'd been feeling far more refreshed than before, too.
"The pollen of a plant called Hemophy is excellent for flushing toxins out of the body. It's in the drinks you all just had, too."
Hong Peng said, wearing a complicated, wistful smile.
"When I heard my sister was coming, I went around planting Hemophy seeds everywhere."
"......Ah."
No wonder Hong Peng's expression looked so strained.
Family was still family, though—Byeolya's chaotic tirades had to weigh on her, and there was hardly anyone else who could clean up after her.
"Hang in there, Professor! Professor Byeolya's class is fun too!"
"Thank you, Jimon. Still, if anything feeches wrong, make jure you tell her plainly, okay?"
Just then, Hector kicked up a clamor beside them and surged ahead, his pace spiking in an instant. In a flash he was at the tree, slapping his palm against it—then he turned and smirked at Simon, making a show of it.
"Oh, congratulations on first place, Hector."
Simon said as he caught up. At that, Hector's face went scarlet.
"Are you making fun of me right now?"
Well, what did you expect.
"Now, now, that's enough. No fighting, you two."
At Hong Peng's admonishment, Hector reined in his temper. He really did behave in front of his elders.
The Magic Combat hopefuls came trundling in shortly after, wheezing for breath.
"Shall we settle it between the two of you, then?"
Hong Peng pointed her fingertip back at their original starting point and shouted, "Begin!"
Simon and Hector exploded off the line simultaneously.
What even ARE those two?!
Seriously. Do they not get tired at all?
Gulping air, the Magic Combat hopefuls trailed irritably behind them.
Tak. Tak-tak. Tak.
Bahil, professor of Curse Magic, sat slouched sideways in his chair, scrawling formulas across the blackboard with a perfectly blank expression.
He never once glanced at the board—the equations pouring out of him, uninterrupted, as if copied straight from his mind, bordered on artistry.
"Professor."
Then came a knock at the office door, and Chief TA Chehekl appeared. She bowed her head politely.
"It's time for your Class A lecture, Professor."
Bahil set the chalk down with a decisive clack. Then he wiped the chalk dust from his hands with the wet towel laid out on the table, rose from his chair, and shrugged on the white suit hanging from the coat rack.
"I have been waiting for this day alone."